The Unknown Woman Read Online Free PDF Page A

the tragedy.
    The security chief checked for a pulse. Kerry told him about administering CPR and said there seemed to be a blockage in the airway. He glanced toward the courtyard. “I think we’d better tell the band to bring the evening to a close.” He glanced at the manager.
    “Would you do that?” she requested. “That would be one less thing to worry about.”
    “Unless someone in the crowd is involved in this.”
    Matt waved a hand toward the bed.
    They stared at the still form.
    “I don’t see any signs of struggle,” Jensen said.
    “No blood or bruising on her.” He glanced around the room again and frowned. “The vase is broken—”
    “I did that,” Matt admitted. “I jumped from the bed when I realized there was someone else here.”
    “Could it be an overdose?” Charlotte said to the security man. “You know there are people on the street selling everything one can imagine.”
    Matt observed the manner in which the securitychief checked the room and relaxed a bit. The man was sharp-eyed and intelligent, his mind focused.
    “Anyone connected with the victim would have fled long ago,” Jensen said. “I’ll go out front and direct the cops in here. They can decide if we should send the partygoers home and call it a night.”
    When he left, the silence stretched to the four corners of the room.
    “This is most unfortunate,” Charlotte said to Matt and Kerry. “I’m so sorry you’ve been pulled into such a bad situation.”
    Matt shrugged. “That’s life,” he said, trying not to be judgmental and accuse her and the staff of not doing their jobs properly. He thought about changing hotels. With a glance at Kerry’s pale face, he wondered if she would like to move, too.
    Charlotte nodded and managed a grim smile. “A guest has left unexpectedly, so there’s another patio suite available, number three, on the other side of Miss Johnston’s. We’ll move you there after the police give their approval.”
    Kerry gave him a smile as if urging him to accept.
    He nodded, then wondered why she should have any influence on his decisions.
    Because she’d come when he’d needed her.
    That was an odd thought. At thirty-seven, he’d made it a rule to never let himself rely on anyone else for emotional or financial support. He’d worked through high school and college to support himself,separating himself from his father in all the ways he could. If it weren’t for his mother, he doubted he’d ever bother to speak to the man.
    But that was the past.
    After writing for the college paper, he’d chosen journalism as his field, rather than the law profession, as his father and grandfather had demanded. Youthful defiance maybe, but he’d worked his way into a career he enjoyed—wine critic for a slick and expensive magazine headquartered in New York.
    He traveled the world looking for the best wines and restaurants with the best-stocked cellars. He’d written three books, all still in print, one of them a nonfiction bestseller on living the good life.
    He’d worked his butt off to show his family he had chosen the best life for him.
    “Did anyone check for identification on the body?” Jensen asked.
    “Patti.” Kerry suddenly spoke up. “Her name is Patti. I met her earlier today. At the voodoo museum, she called herself Queen Patrice, but she was Patti, the waitress, at the restaurant where I had lunch.”
    Charlotte looked weary as she took in this information. Matt guessed she’d had a stressful night.
    “All the women who practice voodoo call themselves queens,” she said. “It comes from Marie Laveau’s tomb. It says she was a voodoo queen, so every claimant calls herself one, too.”
    Matt noted how her gaze took in the details of theroom, as if she were searching for clues to what had happened earlier. In addition to the broken vase, which he’d knocked on the floor, the room had a disheveled appearance.
    Clothing hung out of the lower drawers of the armoire as if someone had